Something's Coming
by dolly.the.sheep
Summary: this happened after i listened to the commentary for TCI on the BBC dr who website ... a couple of the writers mentioned 'losing' some scenes which implied that Rose and Mickey had spent the night together, and LO! a plot bunny was born.


_Nothing matters to the Doctor,_ thought Rose. _I've been everywhere with him … so many places, so many aliens … and now he's just … just lying there…_

A movement behind her caught her attention. Mickey came up behind her, watching her in her vigil over the doctor. She sighed resolutely.

"The Doctor wouldn't do this," she muttered, half to herself. "The old Doctor – the _proper_ Doctor – he'd wake up. He'd save us." Mickey swallowed down a lump that was threatening to climb up his throat and unstuck his voice.

"You really love him, don't you?" He didn't feel like himself saying it. He felt … numb. Hollow. Empty. He'd lost Rose to this … this thing.

"I'm scared, Mickey."

Mickey sighed. He couldn't stand to hear Rose talking like this. He put his hand near her shoulder, hesitated, then gently placed it on her shoulder and squeezed it.

"I know, babes," he admitted. "I'm scared too. I don't think the Doctor's gonna get better any time soon, either."

"Don't say that," Rose snapped, shaking his hand off her shoulder. She stood in the doorway, watching the Doctor lying there helpless. How could this have happened? How could she have let this happen to him? It wasn't as if he'd bumped his head and was sleeping off a concussion – he'd changed, in more ways than one. His face had physically changed in front of her eyes.

This man wasn't her Doctor. He was the Doctor, but he wasn't _her_ Doctor. His hair was thicker, his ears were smaller, his nose was longer … he looked completely different. He looked … smaller, somehow … tucked up in that huge bed, wearing pyjamas that were several sizes too big, and paler than ever. He was looked so small …

Choking back a sob, Rose instinctively turned around and held onto Mickey for support. She buried her face in his jacket and wrapped her arms around him, refusing to let herself cry. Caught unawares, Mickey stared at her for a second before tentatively putting his own arms around her, patting her on the back a few times. They stood there for a few moments, neither of them speaking or thinking. After a while, Rose drew away, sniffing slightly and rubbing her eyes. She smiled up at Mickey and turned around to face the Doctor, but Mickey noticed that she didn't seem to object to his arms still wrapped around her.

The Doctor twitched and muttered something incomprehensible. Rose supposed his mind was working overtime, trying to fix his dying body. How much longer would it take? Would he last the night? Would he last the next couple of hours? She knew they'd woken him too soon, knew it from the moment she'd done it … but she didn't know how to work the sonic screwdriver, or even if it would work for her. Maybe it was genetically programmed to respond only to him. Who knew?

"Look …" Mickey muttered quietly. "Maybe … maybe he's getting better. Maybe this regeneration thing is like the 'flu. Y'know, something you have to sweat out. Has to get worse before it gets better." He didn't believe any of this himself, but he knew Rose was worried, and he couldn't bear to see her upset. Even after all she'd put him through – leaving him for months, expecting him to fetch and carry for her – he still couldn't bear to see her so upset like this. Instinctively, he turned her round and gave her a kiss on the cheek, just to let her know … just to let her know … know what?

Rose just stared. Mickey blushed and avoided her eye, but she put her hand on his face to stop him from turning away. Slowly she brought his gaze back to her, held it for a few seconds, then she kissed him. Just a little kiss at first, brushing her lips on his – before she knew it, they were clinging together blindly, as if those months of missing and waiting had never happened. Fumbling slightly, they moved together in the direction of Rose's bedroom.

Two people heard the bedroom door slam – Jackie and the Doctor. Jackie woke up with a start, having been dozing at the Doctor's bedside, and looked around confusedly. Once she'd regained her bearings, she yawned and stretched as she shuffled her way to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. As she passed Rose's bedroom, she heard Rose giggle and Mickey sigh. Jackie smiled to herself. _About bloody time,_ she thought. _About time she thought of herself for once._

The Doctor heard, but didn't notice. His body was motionless, his breathing erratic, and the only signs of life that he showed were occasional incomprehensible mutterings under his breath. No-one could work out what he was saying. Rose tried listening a couple of times, but nothing she heard made sense. It was as if the Doctor was speaking another language. That alone upset Rose more than anything – if the Doctor wasn't speaking English, then the TARDIS wasn't working … and if the TARDIS wasn't working …

"I just … I dunno what to do any more," Rose said, as she and Mickey lay wrapped in each other's arms in her bed. Mickey sighed and stroked her arm. "I mean, I don't know if those aliens are bad or good or somewhere inbetween, and I don't know why I can't understand them."

"Look, can't you just forget about the Doctor?" said Mickey, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Just for one night? Me and you … we just had a really good time and you're bringing him into it again."

"I know, but I just –"

"All you ever do is talk about him," he continued, pushing the covers back and getting out of bed. He started to pull his t-shirt back on roughly, getting angrier and angrier. "It's always Doctor this and TARDIS that and I'm just … I'm sick of it, Rose. I'm sick of him, I'm sick of the TARDIS and I'm sick of never being able to see you."

"Mickey, I –"

"Sick of the fact that you're braver than me, you're stronger than me, you always go for him instead of me. I'm nothing special, I know that, but … I love you, Rose. I do, I love you, and I always will."

Rose just stared. Here she was, still half-naked under her duvet, and Mickey was now fully clothed and staring at her, almost on the verge of tears. She sat up, clutching the duvet to her chest and gazed at him in amazement.

"Mickey, it's not always about him. It's always about us. Us as in me and the Doctor and us as in me and you." Mickey scoffed and turned away but Rose grabbed his arm.

"Mickey, you said earlier that I loved the Doctor. Well, I … I s'pose it's true … but not in the way you think. Not in the way that I loved you. Not in the way that you loved – love – me." She sighed. "It's difficult to explain … you know how you and Jackie love each other? Like … there's something that relates you, that joins you together, but it's not a romantic thing?" Mickey nodded. "I think it's like that. I'm not _in_ love with him … I'm not. I mean, I love him, I do … did … but … now … I dunno. I just don't fancy him. Didn't. Don't. Oh, I don't know …" Her eyes glazed over. "I don't know how I feel. He's changed, Mickey. He's a completely different person and I have no idea who he is. I dunno if he's still the same Doctor or if he's gonna wake up and be totally different, and I just … I want him back. I want the old Doctor back, Mickey. I miss him. I love him. But this new man … I don't know if I love him or not." She chocked back a sob and wiped a tear away, staring resolutely at Mickey. She wouldn't cry. She refused to cry over the Doctor. Not after he'd gone and done this to her. He wasn't worth her tears. He wasn't worth it.

"Get dressed," Mickey said dully. He turned away from her and walked out of the room. As he closed her bedroom door behind him, he felt like he was closing the door on their life together. They could never be the same as they were, not any more. Even if she wasn't in love with him, she still couldn't let him go. She loved him more than she loved Mickey and that was the end of it. He slid down the door and sobbed quietly as he heard Rose moving about behind him. He stopped when he heard her sob for a minute, and straightened himself up, wiping the tears away and settling himself in the living room. When Rose emerged, he greeted her with a weak smile.

"Listen," she said, "I –"

"What is wrong with you? Jason?"

Both of them turned to the front door. The voice coming from outside was a voice they both recognised – it was Sandra, the woman who lived a couple of flats away. Jason was her boyfriend.

"Jason!"

Rose got up and walked towards the door. She opened it and poked her head outside. "Sandra?"

Sandra turned round and looked at them, obviously distraught. She gabbled distractedly at them.

"He won't listen! He's just walking, he won't stop walking! There's this sort of light thing …" Sandra trailed off as she ran off after Jason. "Jason, stop it right now!"

Rose and Mickey followed for a few paces before they spotted the people down below. People moving slowly, resolutely in the same direction, moving towards the stairs. Rose stared grimly as the Doctor's last words to her haunted her.

"_Something's coming."_


End file.
